Night Black
by JadeWing
Summary: Night Black was her name...no longer was she Sakura, but Night Black. Banished from Heaven and the living world through a mistake, she vowed revenge on those between her and the one thing she can never have: Syaoran. A one-shot; Rating for concept only. N


Night Black

She'd never wanted to kill. Or at least, not in her previous life. She'd never asked to be one—one of _them._

It had to be a mistake, she had told herself at first; there was no way that she, Sakura Kinomoto, was in Hell. There had been a squeal of tires, the sickening thud of impact as her head slammed into the steering wheel, twin screams—

And then white. Pure, clean white. 

But when she'd woken up, it was to find herself in a place of darkness.

She was one of the fallen angels, or so she was told. She'd taken a life in the accident, and so hers had been forsaken. 

But it was all a blur now. There were many fallen angels in Hell, but of all, she was the most vicious. 

Night Black. That was her new name. It fit. 

Oh, how she longed for revenge—revenge against God, against Heaven, against all the Angels in the skies. She craved for revenge, desired it, depended on it with the insanity possessed only by those driven by overwhelming need. How could they separate her from him? To cast her into the one place Syaoran Li would never come; to chain her to this eternal fate. In what hate-inspired moment would they do this to her?

It was this, this agony, this hate; it was this that forced her on, that crusted over her light and her soul until it had become darker than the deepest inferno of her new home. The hate blocked her light, blinded her, filled her with more fury than she'd ever felt. 

With the slaying of her first angel, her new existence was cemented. Her eyes, ever the reflection of her soul, were pitch-dark. In a ceremony, where she'd slain the angel and tasted his blood in vengeance, she was christened and reborn as Night Black. 

She surveyed the view around her with pleasure. The cries of ever-ignorant mortals echoed through the air, flames dancing as they shrieked. Here, it was her new world. Here, her anger and hate were encouraged. Here, she was one lone creature, bent on revenge. 

Heaven was afraid of her. Her wings would bear her from the depths of Hell to the bottom of Heaven, to seize an angel, bind him or her, and pierce them through the heart with her scythe. The Devil was proud of her. There was nothing more dangerous than one who could have been an angel but for a fluke, and separated for all eternity from the one she loved. Her hate had guided her when she had killed each angel. Their souls had darkened to join them; what of the blood she hadn't drank fell to the giant crimson pool from which Satan drew his cup. 

Yes, she liked this existence much more than she had at first, thank you. 

"Night Black!" Another fallen angel fluttered up to her, the one known as Shadow Plague. "The One would have a word with you."

"Tell him I come," she murmured. 

Shadow Plague darted away as she fingered her scythe. There was one angel who opposed her, one whose name was heard as often in Hell as hers was in Heaven. Steel Light, they called him. He, in turn, had taken fallen angels and purged them of their darkness—the worst fate possible. Almost all the fallen angels had been Purified; all but her and Shadow Plague. 

Night Black would take certain pleasure in his torture. His cry when her scythe plunged into that heart. Her grin as she feasted on his blood and soul. She would destroy him, drag him into the Deeps of Blood and slowly bleed him until he begged for mercy, until from his eyes poured the tears of agony. She herself had not cried once since her exile into Hell. Fallen angels had no tears.

Smiling crookedly, her dark eyes glinted as she dropped from her ledge and skimmed the flames, then alit beside the Throne of the Dead where The One was seated.

"Night Black," he said slowly. 

"I am here, Lord."

"You know of the one they call Steel Light," purred the Devil. 

"Yes, my Lord." A tiny thrill ran through her empty veins. Was this it? Would she finally be sent?

"He is turning into more than a slight annoyance," Satan breathed, toying with his cup of blood. "With every angel taken, one of ours is purified." He paused, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grim smile. "Night Black, your desire for revenge is what drives you, is it not? Do you not hate God, and Heaven, and every angel in the sky?"

"I hate them, my Lord."

His hollow eyes flicked down to her and rested there for a moment, taking in the shape. She was tall and slender, but strong in heart and mind. That was what made her so powerful. The one the mortals called 'God' had selected his champion; Steel Light. She, it seemed, would be his.

"You will kill any angel for me, will you not?"

"I will, my Lord."

"Then this is your mission." The smile grew a tiny bit, carrying no joy or humor. "You are to kill Steel Light."

She bowed, a cruel smile on her face. He knew the fierce pain and joy she took in slaying angels; to her, each one was a barrier between her and that one thing she could never have. The irony was almost too much for even him to bear—that a soul so full of light, hope, and love could be twisted into what she was now…

His eyes narrowed. Could she be purified, however? Would Steel Light take her, as he had taken almost all of the others? He could not allow that to happen, or no more angels could be taken to restore the ranks—Shadow Plague was nowhere near strong enough.

He had no choice. 

"Before you leave," he started. Pausing, he began anew. "Before you leave, Night Black, drink from this." He held the cup out to her. Her power would grow, in truth, and she might decide he wasn't necessary to her vengeance, but if that day ever came, she would die. In the meantime, her being would be entirely his.

"Your cup?" she asked, incredulous. 

He hid a smile. After what she had become, she was still naïve at times. But that was no matter; once she drank, it would darken her soul even further, beyond even the power of Steel Light. Only she could free herself, and with the hate she contained, he doubted that could happen. "Yes." Seeing her hesitate, he added, "It will make you stronger, that you may destroy even more."

That sealed it. Carefully taking the cup, she put her lips to the edge and inhaled a sip.

The blood from his Crimson Pool was far more potent than angel blood. Her eyes had once held a tiny light. It now vanished. Her power surged, and she smiled a predator's smile. "I thank you, my Lord." A sweep of her ragged wings, and she was gone, the blade of her scythe glistening in the flames.

Night Black was coming. 

He knew she was coming for him. He knew, like many did, that she was the strongest warrior in Hell. 

And he knew she was the only thing between him and going into Hell to bring back Sakura.

Heaven was—well, Heaven. But without Sakura…it wasn't right. He'd been told how it happened, how it was a mistake. She'd been driving through an intersection when a drunk driver had struck her, slamming her into a wall and trapping a child. The child's death had been pinned to her accidentally, but by the time it was discovered, her fate had been sealed. 

But he was going to get her back, or die trying. And Night Black was the only thing between them.

She'd claimed many of his friends. He himself had been killed in an accident as well, shortly after he'd heard; the driver was drunk and he'd died instantly. Upon finding Sakura was in Hell, he'd sworn to purify each and every soul in its depths until he found her. No mistake could keep her down there if he had anything to say about it.

Wings fanning, he waited. 

Past the tunnels, up, up, up she went, on to challenge the one who she hated above all. His soul would be hers, his blood, his life. _He_ would be hers to claim. _He_ was one of them, one of those hated angels who stood between her and the untouchable. All she new was the desire to kill, to feed upon him until he thrashed in the throes of unspeakable pain for separating her from Syaoran.

A light started to appear at the head of the passage, and she picked up her speed, feeling the presence above. Oh, he'd pay, he'd pay all right, he and the rest of Heaven. They'd all pay when she pulled them down to feel the eternal torment she had.

Her scythe gleamed in the darkness, razor-sharp. The loathing and pain all but radiated from her, tainting the air with darkness. _I will kill you,_ she vowed. _I will kill you, Steel Light, and every one of your kind._

If he made a reply, it wasn't one she heard. 

Dull light fell on her form as she emerged from the hole. He was in front of her; she didn't even study him, instead attacking with abandon to spare. Her fury rose, her pain driving her nearly crazy. _Kill,_ whispered her mind. _Kill him. Make him pay._

He was fast, granted. Faster than he should have been, but that didn't matter. She would kill him, and relish his cry of torment as her blade slid into him over and over again—

She charged at him, swinging the scythe once more, and he dodged to the side.

But not fast enough. 

A line of scarlet slowly appeared on his arm, the blood welling up. Taking advantage of his surprise, she flew straight at him.

He vanished. 

_What—where?!_

Whirling, she found too late that he was behind her. An arm wrapped around her throat. 

_He's going to purify me._

The light wrapped around her, tried to reach her, tried to pry into a soul caked in evil. And the drink of the Devil's cup stirred.

A shriek of pure rage wrenched through the air and sheer power exploded from her, sending him flying. She was not going to let this end without her revenge; never would she die before getting revenge. She pulled the power back into her, more infuriated than ever. The attack had left them both reeling, but she would recover faster. Breathing hard, she whirled to face him, her hands shaking. He was weakened now.

_Kill._

He glanced up at her the split second before she struck, and only just made it. She'd seen something like bewilderment in the brief glimpse of his eyes before he'd disappeared again.

This time, he was just out of range. His eyes searched her, but she concentrated on finding his weaknesses and exploiting them. Taking a deep breath, she shot into the air after him, her blade one silver blur.

"Wait!"  
That voice; if she listened to it, it would cost her everything. Ignoring it, she continued the violent assault.

Steel Light dodged another sweep. "Wait—Sakura!"

She froze; the scythe stopped moving. Sakura? No one had called her 'Sakura' for…for forever. Who was Sakura? Who was she?

_I am Night Black. I must kill him._

"Sakura—"

_"No!"_ she suddenly screamed. _"No!"_

Her attack began again, ruthless and unstoppable. _"I am not Sakura!"_ she cried. 

He wouldn't attack her.

_"Come on, Steel Light!"_ she yelled raggedly. _"You want a fight with Night Black? I'm here!"_

"You—you aren't Night Black." He tried to come closer, but the scythe kept him back. "You're _Sakura."_

"I AM NIGHT BLACK!" Her control vanished, and in one arc she swung the blade towards him, towards his heart, towards the one thing she had wanted.

And yet, in a split second, her gaze turned from the target to his eyes. They locked as the scythe screamed down in a rabid hunger for his soul. Their eyes locked, her black ones, his amber ones, both boring into each other's soul. They held; in a single, eternal instant, they held.

The blade stopped dead, the tip just brushing his chest, then fell from her hands. Its plummet made no sound, plunging instead into the hole from which she'd came. 

From her lips came one word, but it said enough. 

_"Sy—Syaoran?" _

A single tear fell from her glistening black eyes, the eyes of a fallen angel, one who was never meant to cry. 

He gathered her into his arms as the tears flowed freely. Light broke through the thick crust of hate coating her soul, first in one place and then another and another, and finally the light overwhelmed it, scouring it away. Her hate vanished, her pain eased. The wretched wings on her back shivered, then burst into dust. Feathers spurted from her shoulders; soft white wings formed. Her armor was replaced by simple white clothing; a true, sad smile made her lips curve ever-so-slightly upward. The enraged cry of the Devil, far below, left them unshaken. 

Sakura's eyes slowly opened. Light danced across the deep emerald green, reflecting off tears of joy. It was over. Decades of hate and destruction, and it was over. 

A small smile hovered on Syaoran's lips, and he took her hand. "They're waiting for you," he said softly.

And she went with him.


End file.
